by Joe Corso
“Yeah,” Angelo said to Lee. “And after Rutgar’s dead, he’s gonna come lookin for you and John Hardin, once they figure out where he’s hiding.”
John tapped his desk absently with his fingers, listening to what Angelo had just said. “We’ll let them think we don’t know they’re coming for us. Let them become complacent and they’ll take the bait. Don’t worry; they’ll come hunting for us after they return from Germany. And when they do, they’ll walk into our trap. But under no circumstance can we underestimate these men. They are professional killers. You all heard what they said. They have no qualms about killing someone, and it’s all about the money. It reminds me of the story of a guy who wanted this beautiful woman so he asked her, ‘Would you sleep with me for a million dollars?’ Her eyes lit up and she replied, ‘For a million dollars . . . yes, I would sleep with you.’ The guy mulled her answer over for a minute, then he asked her, ‘Would you sleep with me for a dollar?’
“She was insulted. ‘A dollar?’ she said. ‘What kind of woman do you think I am?’
“He replied, ‘We’ve determined that - now we’re just haggling over the price.’” Everyone got the point and smiled. “Well, it’s the same with these guys. We know what kind of men they are. They’re just haggling over the price for each person they’ll kill.”
Sweeney interrupted him. “Do you want me to alert the German authorities that an assassination attempt on Kleinst will be made at their prison?”
John W shook his head. “Negative. Let them do my work for me. He’s getting what he deserves. Jerry, I want you to keep on top of what’s happening at McCormack’s hotel. When these men return from Germany, I want to be ready for them. Once they land in Phoenix, they’ll head to McCormack’s to give him an update, and then they’ll discuss how they’re going to kill us. Jason, I want you to stay in touch with Jerry.
“Jerry do you have any two-way radios?”
Jerry nodded, reached into his flight bag, and took out what appeared to be a set of six small, simple radios. “After I’ve explained a few facts about them, I’ll give each of you a radio. Don’t let the looks of these radios fool you. They’re purposely designed to look simple. These radios look like Radio Shack specials, but in fact, they are supremely sophisticated units of technology straight out of our government’s experimental laboratories. I have a friend who works as an electronic systems design engineer for the government in a top-secret laboratory deep under the ground in Virginia. And, when he designed and built the first thousand units all with serial numbers, he added another six units without serial numbers for me. Gentlemen, these are the units.”
Sweeney, being a detective, was keenly interested in how sophisticated they were and what they were capable of. “Why are these simple-looking radios so special, Jerry?”
“Well, for one thing, once you press the ‘talk’ button, this baby hooks up to a satellite that will relay the call on a unique frequency to a receiver with a corresponding frequency and your party will hear you, wherever you are in the world. Look at the unit and you’ll see seven buttons. The first six are for designated users. For example, if Lee has Unit Two, then I’ll press two to talk to him and he’ll be the only one who can speak to me, or hear what I’m saying to him. If I want to talk two of you, then I’ll press the two buttons corresponding to the persons I want to talk to. If I want to talk to all of you, then I press seven, and then I’ll be speaking to up to six of you or as many of you who are carrying an activated phone. Also, unlike other phones, this one’s signal is capable of transmitting through three inches of steel. All calls made from these phones are encrypted, so you don’t have to worry about anyone listening in. And finally, if you don’t have a weapon and you find yourself facing someone with one, move the A button to the B position, which is to the right. Then point this innocent-looking antenna at the person and press the power button. My buddy figured out a way to tap into the power grid of the satellite and download a power pulse that acts similar to a laser beam. It will hit the bad guy like a lightning bolt. But that’s not all. You can do it repeatedly or until the unit powers down. Tests have shown that you could incapacitate up to ten persons with this little guy. But I caution you not to use it unless it’s to save your life.”
Lee interrupted him. “Why is using it to save your life the only time we can use it?”
“This unit has a built in warning system which will alert the government that one of their units that they can’t account for has been used. They will know the unit you’ve just used is tapping into the satellite power grid and they’ll come looking for it and they’ll find it because the unit itself will lead them directly to you, if it isn’t destroyed first.”
“What good is it, then?” Angelo asked.
“Good question, Angelo. I didn’t say you couldn’t use it. Use it if you have to, but if you use it as a weapon, then destroy it as soon as you’ve finished using it. If you must make a phone call after using it as a weapon, do it quickly and then destroy this sucker fast. Hit it with a hammer or a rock, or throw it in a furnace, or run it over with your car, but make sure it’s no longer working, because the sooner you get rid of it, the safer you’ll be. The guys that these babies are made for are rather protective of them and they will hurt anyone who shouldn’t have them. Remember, this is the finest radio on Earth and it poses no threat to you unless you use the weapon part of it. If you do, then it’s a bullet aimed right at your head and you must destroy it immediately. I’m asking you, though. Try hard not to use this as a weapon. Use it only if you have no other option because these little babies are irreplaceable. I’d have to charge Mr. Christo a small fortune if one or more of these are destroyed. Does that answer your questions? Any further questions?” He looked around the room but no hands were raised. “One more thing. These six satellite radios and my master radio all have frequencies unique unto themselves. These radios were made as a package of seven and none of the other government radios has a similar frequency, which means they cannot listen to our conversations. I just wanted to make that clear to you. Only we can hear one another, so don’t be afraid to use them.” He wrote each man’s name and the number of the phone on his pad, as he handed him a radio. “It’s all yours, Mr. Christo. I’ll make copies of who has what number phone and hand the list out to you and the guys.”
“Good job, Jerry. Jason, make sure you keep in touch with Jerry. We need to stay ahead of these guys. You don’t want them to surprise you. You could end up dead if you let your guard down.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
It was cold in the hills behind the prison but neither heat nor cold affected the two men when they were on a mission. It was part of their job. But it went far beyond that. The two men met when they were inducted into the Navy SEAL program and were assigned as partners, and they remained partners, even after being thrown unceremoniously out of the SEAL’s after they were discovered buying and selling drugs. They took the name of an old western TV show Have Gun Will Travel, only they named their company Have Guns Will Travel. With the plural on GUNS, they formed their own company. They placed ads in Soldier of Fortune magazine and the EU version of the same magazine, as well as Guns and Ammo, the world’s most widely read magazine on that subject. The jobs came in slowly at first, but they found that word of mouth was the best form of advertising, and they soon had plenty of that. As long as the price was right, they didn’t care what the job entailed. Kidnapping, intimidation, murder - it didn’t matter to them. Their only rule was, they wouldn’t take a job that involved women or children, but everything else remained on the table.
McCormack was right. He told them not to worry; that he’d have the tools they needed delivered to their hotel room in Germany within an hour after they checked in. Sure enough, a courier, unaware of what the box contained, delivered the package to their hotel room. He was surprised but pleased at the generous tip he was given, and he thanked the two men, smiling as he left, thinking this was his lucky day.
Schroed
er opened the box and discovered to his delight that it contained a German Mauser 86SR, which fired a 7.62x51mm NATO (.308 Win) .300 Win. This was an upgraded Mauser SP66 and it featured a new bolt, and a different stock, which was ventilated to help dissipate heat from the barrel. It had a detachable box magazine, which held nine rounds; a useful feature for rapid reloads, in which they weren’t interested. One shot would do the trick for them. This weapon was fun to shoot and accurate as hell. Burt could put a grouping of 5 shots in a silver dollar at 400 yards anywhere, at any time.
They were in the hills since before daybreak. They had scouted the terrain the day before because they didn’t want to chance running into hikers on the way up. They didn’t need witnesses describing two men fitting their description at the scene of the shooting, so they left early and got to their killing spot while it was still dark. Burt set up the tripod and positioned the weapon, while Eric dug the small trench about 100 feet down from where Burt was setting up the rifle.
“Is the hole dug and ready for the rifle?” Burt asked. “Once I put this guy down, we don’t want to waste a minute getting our asses out of here.”
“I know. Don’t worry. It’s all set. I even have branches and leaves set up beside the dirt. All you have to do is drop the rifle where I show you and I’ll shovel the dirt in and bury the rifle fast like. Then I’ll cover it with leaves and no one in the world will ever find it. Then you and me, we’ll walk out of here like two tourists on a vacation.” They smiled, sat back, and waited.
At 1 p.m. sharp, the door to the prison yard opened and the prisoners began to amble out the door in two’s and three’s. Eric was the spotter and he had his long-range binoculars up to his eyes, scanning the prisoners as they came through the door. “There he is. Get ready,” Eric whispered loud enough for Burt to hear.
“Got him.” Burt waited a split second for one of the men to get out of his line of fire before his finger applied pressure on the trigger and he began to squeeze. The loud crack of the cartridge caused the lead projectile to blow Kleinst’s head apart. Eric saw the pink mist spray out like a large red fan from behind Kleinst’s head.
“Bingo! He’s down. Let’s get the hell out of here.” Burt picked the lone shell up from the ground and pulled the rifle off of the tripod, while Eric picked up and folded the tripod. Both men turned and ran down the sloping tree-lined incline, stopping only to drop the weapon, shell, and tripod into the shallow trench. Burt pulled off his gloves and threw them into the hole while Eric quickly shoveled dirt into it. Then he bent down and helped push the dirt into the hole. It just took two or three minutes for the hole to be completely filled with dirt, and then they covered the area with leaves and branches. They brushed themselves off as they walked down the hill.
Burt put out his hand to signal to stop, and they looked behind them to see if they could tell where they buried the weapon. He smiled and slapped his partner on the back and laughed. “It’s impossible to tell where we buried it. Hell, even we’d have a hard time finding it.” They were feeling good as they walked down the incline, because even if they were stopped and questioned they had no weapon and no paraffin residue on their hands. They made it to their rental car and then to their hotel without incident. This kill was easier than they had expected it to be.
CHAPTER FORTY
John and his key men were at their corporate headquarters in New York planning moves, and talking about how they would handle the two mercs when they came calling. It was like a game of chess. You couldn’t move your chess piece until you knew what your opponent’s move was going to be. John looked at his watch. He had a phone call to make. “Okay, guys, time for a break. I have an important call to make. Stay here and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He walked out to the lunchroom, took out his cell phone, and called Howard Fineman, his stockbroker. “Howard, it’s John Christo. Listen carefully; I have a company I want you to monitor for me. It’s called McCormack Mining Company, Inc. I have inside information that the stock will drop shortly like an anchor. It’s currently trading at $23.00 a share, but I expect very shortly for it to drop dramatically, probably in the next few days. Keep your eyes on it. It will hit a dollar, and when it does, buy all you can, because at the end of that day, I want to own the company.”
Fineman interrupted him. “Excuse me, Mr. Christo, but what makes you so sure the stock will go down?”
“There’s going to be an announcement concerning the company sometime this week and it’s not going to be positive. When that happens, trust me, the stock will drop. You have your instructions and you know what to do. Be ready to buy all the stock you can once it hits $1.00 and remember: I said to buy all you can. That’s all you need to know. Once I’m the majority owner, the stock will climb higher than it is now.”
A week before, McCormack had ordered his team to start mining the gold in the Four Peaks Gold Mine. He couldn’t wait for his shareholders to see the profits they’d make from all the gold that would be taken out of this new mine because when they did, they’d back him during these hard times. But, in order for him to have their support, he knew he had to get the mine producing. This was the 21st Century, so he didn’t have to worry about the Tonto Apache Indians attacking and killing his men like in the old days. Even with all of his problems, he was a happy man. Life was good: his two mercenaries would take care of the witnesses and his new mine would make his shareholders happy.
News was broadcast every five minutes by all of the major television stations about the assassination of Rutgar Keisel, also known as Rutgar Kleinst, and how the assassins got away cleanly. One down and two to go, McCormack thought to himself. He was pacing the floor like an expectant father waiting for the good news from his latest addition to his family of gold mines, the lost Four Peaks Gold Mine. He stopped pacing, sat down at his desk chair, and stared out his window, seeing nothing while deep in thought. He thought that all he had to do was to wait for the good news from the mine.. Then, his private phone suddenly rang, jolting him out of his reverie. He spun around, banging his knee on the underside of his desk as he reached for the phone. Damn, he thought, as he rubbed his knee with his left hand, while he put the phone to his ear with his right hand.
His anticipation of good news faded as he sat in stunned silence, his heart pounding as he listened to the bad news. He slowly put the phone down but didn’t remember doing it. He was lost in thought, thinking of what he could do to extricate himself from this nightmare. He couldn’t say why he did it, but he picked up the phone and mechanically dialed John Christo.
John had been waiting for this phone call. “Yes, Jack. How are you doing?”
Hearing Christo’s voice snapped McCormack out of his malaise, and his temper, which he never could control, flared. His voice raged as he spoke into the phone. “Did you know the mine that you sold me was played out? There was no gold in that god damned mine. I’m ruined and it’s all your fault.”
John smiled but he was careful not to let his voice betray him. “Why, Jack, how could there not be gold in the mine? Didn’t you have your assessor check the gold nuggets you found there?”
McCormack was too upset to question how John knew about the nuggets being tested. “Yes. Yes. He checked the gold.”
“And?” John W asked him.
“And it tested very good, better than that in fact.”
“So where’s the problem, then?”
“There is no other gold in that mine, just a few nuggets. Now what am I going to tell my stockholders?”
“I don’t know, Jack. But why did you call me? What did you expect me to do about it? Business is a gamble, surely you of all people know that, and you know what?”
“No. what?”
“The what is . . . I’m glad I followed my hunch and didn’t get involved in the gold mining business.”
McCormack shook his head. “You knew something, didn’t you?”
“Now what could I possibly have known, Jack? The old man left me what he bel
ieved to be a map to a valuable gold mine, but according to you, the mine is worthless.”
As soon as John W hung up the phone, he called the Wall Street Journal and asked to speak to a reporter. When the reporter got on the line, John W told him who he was, and warned him that if he wanted this story, John would have to remain anonymous. Since this was John Christo, the reclusive billionaire, on the phone, the reporter agreed to keep him anonymous. “Do you have a recorder, or a pen and pad handy because I’m about to make your career, because I’m going to give you the story of the year.”
The reporter couldn’t believe his luck. “Hold on a minute. I have a recorder in my desk. Give me a minute to set it up. My name is Adam Wainright, by the way and I’m a reporter for this paper.”
John laughed. “I figured that, Adam.”
Adam’s face flushed red. “Well, I just started and . . .okay, I’m all set - anytime you’re ready, Mr. Christo.”
“I’m going to start at the beginning, Adam, so make sure your recorder is on.” Christo spent the next hour telling Wainright everything, except that he was the prisoner who was held in the Gila Bend prison. The young reporter knew he was recording the scoop of a lifetime. At the same time, John W knew that by giving Wainright the story, he was planting the seed of McCormack’s demise. When tomorrow’s edition of the Wall Street Journal reached the newsstands, all of the other media outlets would pounce on the story and they would take it to the next level. When the reclusive billionaire finished telling his story, Wainright couldn’t wait to get off the phone to write the story.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“Good work, boys,” a weary Jack McCormack said. “Get the last two men and you’ll make me a happy man. In return, I’ll make the two of you happy. All you have to do is finish the job.”
Burt scratched his chin and said, “Well, you’ve told us where this fellow Lee is working, but you haven’t told us anything about the Hardin guy. Do you know where we can find him?”